


When Light Met Dark

by practicallydeanwinchester



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan, RIORDAN Rick - Works
Genre: Blitzen helps Hearthstone out of a rough time, Blitzen's past, Budding Love, But if you spot something incorrect, Comments aren't my strong suit (are they anyone's?), Depression, Fluff, For the most part, Hearthstone and Blitzen and Mango Cheese’s Mom and Dad, Hearthstone is happy and Blitzen is happy, Hearthstone supports Blitzen, Hearthstone's past, Hopefully I'll work on this a lot, How Hearthstone and Blitzen first met, I am a self-trained writer mostly in realistic fiction, I don't like this title. If you have suggestions please leave some!, I'd love it :), IDK how long it'll be, M/M, Mentions of a sibling death, Minor character death (before plot), My First Fanfic, My grammar is double checked, Past Abuse, Past Neglect, Past Suicidal Thoughts, Please comment your correction :), Possible past attempted suicide, Self-Blame, Switching POV (3rd person limited, This should be canon by now Uncle Rick, Uncle Rick - Freeform, We know they're in love, mango cheese, ocassionally omniscient), please comment and leave kudos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/practicallydeanwinchester/pseuds/practicallydeanwinchester
Summary: Blitzen and Hearthstone, a lonely dwarf and an abandoned elf, meet when Hearthstone accidentally gets sent to Svartalfheim using a portal rune to escape his abusive and neglectful father. As they learn more about each other, they realize that together, they can distract themselves from the expectations they can't live up to and the hate they receive because of not fulfilling them. Together, Hearthstone and Blitzen meet Mimir and are assigned to look after the teenage demigod, Magnus Chase who is also in need of help, when he becomes homeless after the death of his mother.If you can't tell, this is a story following the events that take place before the first Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard book. All rights belong to Rick Riordan and Disney. I have used material from the books (being as accurate as possible) to create my interpretation of what happened.





	1. Chapter 1

The tattered man limped down the street, clutching his side as he winced in pain with each step. His muscles were sore and weak and his eyes, bloodshot. He tried not to knock into the smaller people walking busily around him, some stopping to stare or gawk, but his head was spinning and he could barely keep himself upright.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” He saw one man shout.

_ Sorry, _ he signed, immediately regretting his decision when the man stared at his gesture, confused and looking offended. As he kept walking, he could feel the man’s threatening glare following him and he knew the man must still be yelling because the people in front of him craned their necks to look over his shoulder, where the man was still standing. The man limped onward, feeling a furious blush creeping over his face. His appearance was far different from the crowd around him, and people were staring up at his giant figure, in curiosity, disgust, or fright. He felt isolated, a feeling only made worse by his disability; the fact that he could not hear what the people around him said, he decided, was far worse than if he had the ability to interpret their words.

Lean and pale, with awkward limbs and long, nimble fingers, the young elf stood out shockingly in the crowd around him, who were all short and stocky with fingers calloused from long days of pounding at steel, transforming it into a number of fascinating shapes. The dwarves had mostly darker shades of skin, hair, and eyes, and they held a sort of power in their stare that was different from the stares back home – in Alfheim, the looks were filled with cruelty and hunger; the expressions around him held confidence and a thirst for success.

The man felt his head swim with confusion and he nearly toppled to the ground, catching himself in the nick of time. His feet still had pins and needles from his travel to the foreign world and he could feel a nauseating feeling rising in his esophagus. His head was pounding beats opposite to his heart, causing him to begin to lose awareness in the world around him.

“Hey!” A hand clutching his arm finally brought him back to the busy street. He saw a short man (though tall for a dwarf) calling to him with a concerned expression. “Hey, you okay?” He asked, and Hearth could tell he said it softly. Hearth slowly nodded, grimacing as his head was swept with pain.

“Woah, woah. Careful there. You should sit down. Why don’t we find a bench somewhere?” He took the elf’s other arm so he wouldn’t topple over. Again, the elf nodded, more carefully this time. Sitting down sounded like a fantastic idea.

The elf watched the dwarf’s lips carefully as they made their way to a park only a block away so they could rest, making sure he would catch any word that floated off of them, but thankfully, the dwarf said nothing as they walked.

When they finally made it, the dwarf helped the elf slowly make his way into a seated position on the incredibly ornamental bench. Dwarves were known for their excellent craftsmanship. The elf was glad that the dwarf still spoke facing him so he didn’t have to tell the dwarf why he wasn’t responding – besides, the elf wasn’t sure how he would do that when he had no means of communicating to him. He was afraid of scaring away the only person in this world who seemed to actually want to help him.

“Wait right here, alright?” He placed an arm on the elf’s shoulder as if he needed a physical command to follow the verbal one. “My apartment isn’t far from here. You can go there to rest. Is that alright?” The elf nodded. “I just need to find a way to get you up the stairs.”

The dwarf turned his back and the elf’s heart pounded, hoping he wasn’t still talking. The dwarf apparently wasn’t, or he just hadn’t needed a response because he crossed the street, turning a corner and disappeared into the shadows. The elf’s eyes were still adjusting to the darkness of this foreign world, so instead of seeing the dwarf walk into a place he could no longer see him, the dwarf seemed to just disappear.

It must have been less than fifteen minutes (an impressive feat) but it felt like an hour before the youthful dwarf came galloping back. He was pushing a long box that was rested on a set of wheels. From afar, it looked almost identical to a casket.

The dwarf was gasping so it was hard for the elf to read his lips, but he understood what to do when the dwarf opened the box and gestured inside.

The elf carefully stood up, his energy so low he wasn’t sure if he would make it. Luckily, the dwarf walked around to help lift him in just as he started to slip. The dwarf grabbed the lanky elf under his arms, something that was only possible since the elf could not stand up fully and started to bring him closer to the casket-esque contraption. The elf felt two short breaths against his ear and he guessed the dwarf had just told him to be careful.

After finally getting the elf inside, the dwarf shut the door and the elf could feel his body heating up. Inside the box were the long vertical slits of heaters that emitted warm yellow light and the elf could feel his health slowly return. How the dwarf had managed to make this in the little time he had, or if he had had it already, which was doubtful, the elf didn’t know but he shuddered as his pores allowed in the heat that he had much needed in his time in the dark world of Svartalfheim.


	2. Chapter 2

The elf wasn’t sure how long he had been sleeping but when he woke, he was still in the makeshift tanning bed, no longer moving. He slowly stretched his arms and was delighted to feel far less pain than he had before. The “sunlight” had brought him almost to full health. He lifted an arm and slowly pushed on the lid of the tanning bed, testing if he could open it from the inside. When he felt it move slightly, he extended his arm fully upward, pushing but careful not to make too much sound, in case it disturbed the dwarf. Apparently, he had made quite a bit of noise because he felt the floor shake as the dwarf leaped into the room. He turned just in time to see the dwarf’s wide smile mouth, “Thank gods you’re okay.”

The elf let out a little chuckle, which was silent but his eyes crinkled and he smiled bashfully.

“Let me help you,” the dwarf said, rushing over but the elf waved him away, indicating that he could do it on his own. Plopping on the floor, the elf noticed how short the ceiling was and almost ducked before realizing there were still a few inches above him. He realized that with this dwarf being a rather tall height for Svartalfar, or Dark Elves like himself (a confusing title since they are in fact dwarves), a tall ceiling was not necessary, even though he was not all that short, at a height of about five foot five.

The dwarf ushered him to a couch, rich purple and decadent with soft cushions and a golden trim. The elf realized that it was far different from most furniture in Svartalfheim, which was, while beautiful, hard and cold and not nearly as comfy. The elf nuzzled into the soft couch, realizing it had been a long time since he had felt comfortable like this. Back at his home in Alfheim – which felt less like a home and more like a house he happened to live in – he was not allowed on nice furniture. He had always been cleaning and doing laborious chores, only resting when he went to sleep at night, if he did at all. Most of the time, the elf spent all night staring at the large carpet on his floor made of the pelt of the monster that killed his brother.

The elf felt a nudge on his arm. “Are you okay?” The dwarf’s eyes were kind and concerned, something so unfamiliar to the elf that he wished he could stay in this stranger’s company forever. The elf blinked and, realizing he had tears in his eyes, quickly rubbed them away, sneezing softly so it might look like he was having allergies. The dwarf slightly chuckled at the action. “Hey, Sneezy, what’s your name.”

The elf laughed, remembering that Sneezy was the name of a dwarf in a fairy tale from Midgard, the world of humans. The elf was a sucker for a bit of light-hearted irony. He suddenly stopped, face flushing green, when he realized he had to now answer the question. He looked away, realizing that was the wrong thing to do, and awkwardly looking back at the dwarf, pointed ears turning a shocking shade of granny smith.

The dwarf’s expression shifted, his seemingly permanent smile fading into an intensely serious frown. “What’s the matter?”

Something was up with the elf and the dwarf knew he had something to do with it. The elf’s hands shook violently and he resisted the temptation to bend over when hot tears began to pour down his emerald cheeks. His heart was pounding. He had no idea how to tell this man who had saved him that he was, well….a freak.

The dwarf said nothing and the elf assumed it safe to quickly bury his face in his bended knees, trying to even his breathing.

When the elf looked back up, the dwarf’s face had changed. He looked calm, collected, and compassionate. “You’re deaf,” he breathed.

The elf stared at him in shock. How could someone be so sympathetic to learn of the thing that had led him to feel so guilty and alone all these years? It was a thing that had cost the elf his brother’s life and had almost caused him to rid the world of the mistake that was himself.

Slowly, the elf nodded.

The dwarf sighed in relief and for a moment, the elf realized he had really been worried. “Well, I don’t know much Alf Sign Language but if you did a few letters, I might be able to understand a bit.”

The elf was still shocked and a very small smile crept on his face, his eyes once again releasing their waterworks.  _ H-E-A-R-T-H-S-T-O-N-E, _ he signed, watching the dwarf to make sure he had caught every letter.

“Hearthstone, is that right?” the dwarf asked. Hearthstone nodded, and he blushed slightly when the dwarf softly mumbled the name to himself. He was smiling softly and Hearthstone noted how good the grin looked on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

_ Hearthstone. _ Blitzen smiled. Hearthstone the deaf elf, who had been so near to death that had Blitzen not happened to have the right materials on hand to create a makeshift tanning bed, he would not have made it. Hearthstone, who had looked shocked that Blitzen had not run in fear or looked in disgust when he found out about his impairment. Hearthstone, who looked as though he had never experienced comfort before. Hearthstone, who was clearly running from something he didn’t want to talk about.

“Blitzen,” Blitzen said, making sure Hearthstone could read his lips clearly, then realizing that perhaps he had overdone it when the dorky elf let out a foolish laugh. His laugh was awkward and stunted of having much melody to it but it was absolutely beautiful for someone who had never heard a sound in his life. Blitzen realized this must have been a genuine laugh because all of his other laughs had been silent as if someone had shamed him into silence. Perhaps a parent? Blitzen winced at the idea that this kind and happy elf could have suffered such abuse, but he had seen how Hearthstone had acted when the dwarf had asked if he was deaf, and he recalled the tears running down his lime green cheeks when he had been deep in thought. This elf had endured far more than he deserved.

“Hearthstone, would you like some tea?” Blitzen had mouthed it with far less exaggeration this time.

Hearthstone lightly nodded, his cheeks getting even more green. Blitzen could feel his cheeks warm a little at that.

“Let’s see,” he said, taking a look in his cabinets. These had been crafted by his father, so they had a much firmer, more rigid quality to them. There was only so far Blitzen could go with his own decorating without being even more exiled from his community than he already had been. Dwarves were not exactly fond of what they considered the more effeminate arts, including Blitzen’s favorite hobby, fashion. Blitzen often thought of running away, like his poor elf here had, to start his own line of clothes. He wanted desperately to open up his own little shop, selling all of the hottest fashion he could put together.  _ Blitzen’s Best, _ he would call it. Blitzen realized he had been staring blankly at the tea boxes for several minutes. He didn’t want to keep the elf waiting, especially since the elf could not speak to hurry the process.

Blitzen started to name off the teas he had, suddenly remembering that that would not do his deaf friend much good so he opted to take as many boxes as he could carry to the elf for him to look at for himself. Hearthstone inspected the boxes, finally choosing chamomile which sounded like a good idea to Blitzen and he put hot water on the stovetop. Blitzen walked back to Hearthstone, excited to talk but realized that his lack of knowledge on ASL would make that near-impossible. Disappointed, Blitzen almost gave up and walked back to the kitchen, but he reminded himself,  _ near-impossible. _ As a dwarf, his absolute tenacity made the idea of any sort of possibility a challenge that he  _ would not _ pass up.

“Wait here,” he said to Hearthstone. The elf nodded, alarmed by the suddenly inspired look on the young man’s face.

He lept into the other room, looking through his materials. Just because his main interest was fashion, did not mean he was lacking the natural knack for craftsmanship. In fact, Blitzen considered himself rather good at it – maybe not as good as his father expected him to be, but good enough that his skills far surpassed most beings of the Nine Worlds’.

Twenty-three minutes later, Blitzen emerged with a hunky piece of machinery. It wasn’t very pretty to look at, and it wasn’t very convenient, but it would do the trick until he learned ASL, which he decided he would learn pronto. Blitzen wasn’t sure why he was putting so much effort into this elf, especially since he likely had somewhere to be, but the sickly man was clearly not well enough to leave just yet so the dwarf may as well do his best to make him feel at home.

“Here,” Blitzen said, handing the machine over. “Give this a try.”

The elf looked puzzled for a few moments but he figured it out fairly quickly. Pressing a few buttons, the elf managed to make the thing work.

“What’s up, Doc?” the machine read in green letters. Blitzen chuckled and Hearthstone tried his best to keep himself serious for effect but he suddenly burst into laughter, snorting and guffawing loudly. Blitzen realized this might be the first time Hearthstone could really be himself. He shook the thought out of his head, focussing on the way Hearthstone’s skin shone in the dim light. He sighed, uttering his last few chortles. He knew that bringing Hearthstone in had been in an effort to save the elf, but he was glad to have Hearthstone’s company. Hel, he was more than glad. He was thrilled.

“Dammit, I didn’t turn the oven on.” Blitzen leaped to his feet, rushing to the stove so they could drink their tea before going to sleep, and he heard a few breathy ha’s from Hearthstone who watched the dwarf scurrying to get the water boiling.

Before long, the dwarf and elf were carrying their mugs into the kitchen, still laughing.

“Good night, Hearthstone.”

_ Good night, Doctor, _ Hearthstone signed, mouthing the word  _ doctor _ so Blitzen would understand.

Reluctantly, Blitzen turned to his room, leaving the elf as he climbed back into the tanning bed. Despite having slept for a time he still was not sure of, Hearthstone’s bones ached and his eyelids felt heavy.

“Good night, elf,” Blitzen mumbled, shutting off the lights even though the elf could not hear him.

 


	4. Chapter 4

When Blitzen woke up the next morning, Hearthstone was still asleep.  _ Good, _ Blitzen thought, _ Maybe I can get some studying in before he wakes up. _

Blitzen walked quietly to his study, remember that it did not matter how loud he was, but then realizing that the elf could still feel vibrations if he stomped too hard.

Blitzen got out a pen and a pad of paper, scribbling a few words on it so Hearthstone wouldn’t wonder where he’d gone.

_ Went to get breakfast. Be back soon. Make yourself at home. _

While Blitzen was not entirely lying when he said he was getting breakfast, it was not the main purpose of his errand. Blitzen grabbed his house keys from the small table by the door, one crafted by his grandfather. Taking a glance back to look at the tanning bed, he opened the door and head out into the world of Svartalfheim.

    The world of Dark Elves was familiar yet hostile, at least to Blitzen. Everywhere he went, people eyed him closely as if watching to see if he would make a move. Nearly everyone in Svartalfheim has heard at least something about the dwarf who could have done so much for his family, given them so much pride – but had passed it up for a degree in Fashion. He was a disappointment, he was selfish, and as much as he tried to not let it get to him and as much as he pretended he didn't care, there was something about the way they talked about his interest in  _ fashion  _ that really tapped at his masculinity. Of course, this fact always made him feel guilty and mad at himself for letting something so unimportant and nondefining make him feel uneasy but it didn't help that his family had a strong history of  _ masculine men. _

__ But none of that mattered. Blitzen had a vision and that vision was to become the  _ best damn dwarvish fashion designer Svartalfheim had ever seen. _ Walking down the street, Blitzen tried his best to distract himself from the lingering eyes by thinking about Hearthstone., avoiding the heavy topic of what had made him run away. Why had Hearthstone come here?  _ How had Hearthstone come here?  _ Did the lanky elf travel between worlds often? Did he come here by accident or on purpose? Was Hearthstone on some kind of mission from the gods, like a *______*? Or was he a magician?

    Blitzen stopped suddenly, realizing his destination was about four shops back from he was. Turning around, shaking his head at how distracted he had been, Blitzen stepped through the door to the Svartalfheim Central Bookshop. It was a little crowded, probably since it was a Tuesday (what would be a Midgard Saturday), and there were huge masses of dwarves filling the rows dedicated to craftsmen skills. Most craftsmen skills were supposed to be taught from father to child at a young age but in recent years, there had been a huge development of guide books to make it easier for dwarves to be at least partially self-taught. Making his way to the least often used part of the bookstore, a small section that basically had everything that had nothing to do with craftsmanship, Blitzen began to scan the aisles. Finally, he found the book he was looking for. It was titled,  _ A Beginner’s Guide to American Sign Language.  _ Apparently, they were out of the Alf Sign Language book, but the languages were so similar that it didn't really matter very much at all.

    Clutching a brown paper bag with his newly purchased book, Blitzen began to head back to his apartment so he would get there before Hearthstone woke up. Suddenly realizing he had forgotten to get breakfast for the two of them, Blitzen headed into the nearest café.

  * • • • •



    When Blitzen got home, Hearthstone was still in the tanning bed so Blitzen sat at the desk in his study to learn the basics of the complex language. He refreshed his letters, getting a bit confused between the “r” and “x” because their signs seemed to look exactly like the other letter. But Blitzen was able to remember them by recalling when Hearthstone first spelled out his name.  _ H-E-A-R-T-H-S-T-O-N-E,  _ he mouthed to himself. He even used the name to practice his spelling a bit.

    After getting the alphabet down fairly well, Blitzen began to learn basic sentences he'd use in everyday conversation:  _ How are you, I'm good, Good morning, What's the weather like, I could go for a beer. _

    Blitzen could hear stirring in the living room so he walked in to check on his resident elf, who was reading the note is left.

    Blitzen walked into view. Once he had his eyes on the dwarf, he said, “Don't worry, I'm back now.”

    The perky elf smiled and Blitzen smiled back, having forgotten how great it was to see his smile. His heart pounding, Blitzen decided to give his new-found skill a try.

_ How are you? _

    A little alarmed, Hearthstone smiled, looking impressed. Then, with a devilish grin, he signed an incredibly long sentence with some very odd signs, one Blitzen recognized as _washing machine._

    “____? _____? _____? Washing machine?” The dwarf asked, very confused.

    He chuckled silently, walking over to Blitzen.  _ Thank you,  _ he signed. He didn't have to say more. Blitzen knew what he meant. He was thanking the dwarf for helping him, for taking him in, for not only accepting his disability but doing his best to accommodate. Smiling brightly, the dwarf had to hold himself back from taking the dopey elf into a big hug.  _ Dopey _ . Blitzen laughed a little. Looking at the reflective gray eyes of his new friend, Blitzen decided there was nothing wrong with giving the poor elf a hug. He had clearly had it rough. Maybe an embrace could help him.

    Blushing slightly, Blitzen grabbed the elf under the arms, bringing him in for a tight squeeze. It wasn't the manliest squeeze and he felt slightly self-conscious because of it but he could tell this elf needed something – or someone – to hold onto.

    The elf croaked, “Thank you.”

    It was soft and slurred and barely audible but it was there. Blitzen wondered who had taught it to him and when and if he had tried it on anyone else and gotten results he wasn't hoping for. Sadness swept over Blitzen for this sweet elf who wanted nothing more than to make others happy and be accepted and who, time after time, had been rejected, humiliated, denied the love he clearly needed.

    Normally, Blitzen would have let go a long time ago. Well, he thought  _ normally,  _ but in reality, Blitzen hardly ever showed this kind of affection, even to his family. He had never had a girlfriend or a boyfriend. (The latter was a part of himself he liked to keep secret. Imagine his family finding out that their already effeminate son was not completely straight. He would never hear the end of it.) The embrace he shared with Hearthstone was not only nurturing for the discarded elf but also the dwarf who had never thought about being very close to anyone before. It was a nice feeling and he knew he was helping the taller man.

    Letting go, Blitzen walked into the kitchen to get the two of them their breakfasts.


End file.
